Android Bebop
by Loqutor
Summary: A crossover of Star Trek and Star Wars, starring the cast of Bleach.  No, I was not high when I wrote it, no matter how much you may think otherwise.  I was just insane.
1. Chapter 1

"You know, sir, I did tell you this would happen."

TREA sighed. "Yes, you did. Whoop-de-doo for you."

"I told you twenty times, sir," the ship continued in its pestering tone, "That you needed to get my warp engines looked at back when we were on Rygel Seven. But noooooooooo, you just had to go chasing some Orion tail through the…"

"Shut UP!" TREA kicked the console. "I'm not any happier about our situation than you are, and you aren't helping by reminding me of how I screwed up, so just put a diode in it and give me some peace and quiet."

"As you wish, dimwit." A few seconds of silence. "You know, if you didn't have to try and race with every female Captain you…sir?" TREA had opened the glove box and was searching through it. He soon found what he was looking for—a small red data stick. "Um, is that what I think it is?"

"You bet your servos," TREA said, and crouched down to stick it in the computer's terminal.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mmmbmf—mmm!" The device was, in fact an electronic gag. At this point, his ship's computer's muffled protests were music to his ears.

"And now for some standby." TREA kicked his feet up, put a blindfold on, and reclined his chair. It was probably just a matter of time now.

Scarcely a minute had passed when the console began beeping, and a red light flashed. TREA tried to ignore it. "MMM!"

"What is it?" TREA mumbled, not removing his blindfold.

"Mm'mm bmm-mm hmm!"

"We're being hailed?"

"Mm-hmm."

He removed his blindfold and sat up. "Okay, put them through, whoever they are."

The screen clicked to life, showing the bridge of a starship. A brown-haired, handsome man sat in the Captain's chair. To his right was a white-haired man with narrow eyes, and to his left was a man with a visor over his eyes. At the left console was a long-haired Cardassian whose face seemed cemented in a grin, and at the right was brown-haired woman with a chain earring on her right ear and a ridged nose—a Bajoran, no doubt. "Greetings, freighter," the man in the Captain's chair said. "I'm Captain Sousuke Aizen of the iU.S.S. Noches/i. May I ask what your name is?"

"I'm TREA. A merchant by trade, and Captain of this freighter."

"TREA—that's an odd name. I'm just wondering, why aren't we picking up any life signs from your vessel?"

TREA smiled. "That's probably because your sensors are only calibrated to detect carbon-based life signs. My name is an acronym—Translator Robot of Extreme Attractiveness."

Aizen folded his hands together. "I see. And would the fact that our sensors indicate that your warp engines are non-functional also be due to a deficiency on our part?"

"No, your sensors are right about that."

"Would you like some assistance? I'm sure my Engineering crew could get your ship up and running in a few hours."

"That'd be great, Captain," TREA said. "My warp core was on the verge of overloading, and I had to jettison it. I've got a delivery to make, and I'm sure my recipient doesn't want to be kept waiting."

"I understand. Lieutenant Nnoitra, lock a tractor beam onto his ship, and lock it into position."

"Tractor beam locked on, sir," The Cardassian replied.

"Mr. TREA?"

"Just 'TREA', if you don't mind, Captain."

"TREA," Aizen corrected himself. "Shall we beam you aboard?"

"Okay. It'd be nice to talk to you face-to-face."

TREA stepped off the transporter pad. The Bajoran that had been seated at the console greeted him. "Welcome aboard the iNoches/i, TREA. I'm Ensign Ueda Miska." She noticed his eyes moving up and down her body. "Excuse me! My face is up here!"

"Pardon me, Ensign Ueda," TREA said, looking into her eyes. "It's just that it's a rare occasion when I'm graced by the presence of a woman as lovely as yourself."

"Flattery and a base-level knowledge of my culture will get you nowhere, buster."

"No, I suppose not," he said. "After all, you Bajoran women are quite renowned for your feistiness. Personally, I think it's very cute."

She tried to ignore his compliment—if that's what she dared call it. "I'll be taking you to the Bridge to meet the Captain."

"How busy is he right now?"

"Quite busy. He's got some tactical data for Starfleet Command that he needs to discuss with Admiral Unohana."

"In that case, let's not bother him. Would it be too much trouble if I asked you to give me a tour of your ship?"

She raised her eyebrow and led him down the hallway. "Are you trying to pull something?"

TREA gasped dramatically and put his hand on where a heart should have been. "Ensign, you wound me! To think, a simple, honest trader like me would be accused of having ulterior motives in personal interactions."

"Honest?" Her eyebrow seemed frozen in its position. "I'm the one who scanned your ship. You're carrying spice and disruptor rifles, several models of which have been banned by the Federation. Lucky for you, we're not currently in Federation space. If we were, I'm afraid we'd have to confiscate all your wares and throw you into the brig."

"Just where are we, anyway?" TREA asked. "My warp engines overloaded and the stress blew out my navigational system. I didn't have the right tools to repair it, and my replicator didn't work."

"That many systems went out because of hull stress?"

"Nah, my replicator hasn't worked for a very long time. I don't really need it because, well, you know…android. Don't need to eat. But I sure do miss it."

Miska pointed down the hallway. "Our mess hall is just around the corner, and our replicators are working just fine."

TREA stepped up to the replicator. "One red velvet cake, please."

"Please specify size."

"Um…one kilogram." A very large cake materialized in the replicator. "I like your computer. It doesn't sass back at me." TREA removed it and carried it to a nearby table.

"That's a rather large cake," Miska observed.

"I haven't had cake for over two years," TREA said. "But…would you care to have some?"

She stared long and hard at it, as if there were a war being waged between her palate and her figure. "Yes. I'm quite fond of red velvet cake."

He dished it up. "You still haven't answered my question, Ensign."

"What question?"

"The question of where we are."

"Oh, yes," she said. "About a year ago, the iNoches/i was hit by a wave of zeta radiation. At the time, we had been pursuing a renegade Klingon ship that had plundered several planets within the Klingon Empire. We were being assisted by two Birds of Prey when the radiation wave hit. We still don't know where it came from. All we know is that it knocked us to the far end of the Beta Quadrant, rather close to the border of the Delta Quadrant, and nearly destroyed us. The Klingon ships, on the other hand, didn't stand a chance."

"How DID this ship survive, anyway?" TREA asked. "I'm afraid it's one model of Starfleet's that I'm not familiar with."

"It's a Valiant class ship. It was designed primarily for battle. Right now, it and its predecessor, the Intrepid Class, are the only models in Starfleet that can pass through a plasma storm without sustaining any damage."

"Might I have a look at the schematic?" TREA inquired. "I'd like to see what makes this ship impervious to plasma storms. If I could make the necessary modifications to my freighter, I'd be able to cut about a hundred light years off my shipment route."

"Sorry," Miska said, "But that would be a violation of the Prime Directive."

"Ah, yes," TREA said, now halfway through the entire cake. "That one pesky little Starfleet rule. It's made life hard for me more than once."

Miska's gaze grew stern, and her tone defensive. "The Prime Directive isn't an obscure technical regulation. It's our highest law, and a philosophy. We do not give our technology to people who are incapable of handling it wisely, nor do we interfere in the natural course of cultural evolution!"

"Lieutenant," TREA stared into her eyes, "Has anybody ever told you that you're really cute when you're angry?"

Her face turning red, Lieutenant Ueda looked away. "No."

"Really? That's quite surprising."

Miska was about half way through her cake. "Shut up."

TREA's smile deepened. "Now you're even cuter."

She just ignored him, hoping not to provoke any more smart remarks. He shoveled the last quarter of the cake into his gaping jaws, then closed them as if nothing had happened. "How did you do that?" She asked with a mixture of disgust and amazement.

"Unhinged my jaw," TREA said nonchalantly.

It seemed that Miska's favorite facial expression was one eyebrow raised, because she was making it again. "Whatever were your creators thinking?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'll probably never know, since I never asked."

"So, where did you come from?" She had finished her cake, and picked up the plates, which were recycled by the replicator.

"I don't know my true origin, but my earliest memories are from living on Velana, a planet in the Gamma Quadrant. Its inhabitants were an all-female society known as the Tha'vara, and they programmed me to be a pleasure droid and translator."

This seemed to catch Miska's attention. "Oh really? How do you know they didn't create you?"

"Because I was the only one of my kind. The women would constantly fight over me, and let me tell you, those fights got serious. I cared about them because they were kind to me, and eventually, I just decided to run away and make a life for myself somewhere else so they wouldn't kill each other over me. A few years later, I found out that the Tha'vara had all been killed because they refused to submit themselves to Dominion rule."

Miska's eyes were wide, and aglow with sympathy. "That's…horrible." Her hand found her way onto his. "It must have been so hard for you."

TREA put his thumb over her fingers, rubbing the knuckles lightly. "I've managed. I don't feel guilty about it anymore. After all, it happened over forty years ago."

Instead of her normal facial expression, Miska raised both eyebrows at this. "Forty years ago? Just how old are you?"

TREA shrugged. "I don't know. I serviced the Tha'vara for fifty years before I left their planet."

"You have ninety years' worth of memories?"

"Something like that. The Tha'vara gave me a personality algorithm that makes me constantly act like a twenty-year-old man. They considered that the ideal age for male lovers. But enough about me. Could we please see more of the ship?"

"Oh!" Miska stood, realizing that her hand was entangled with his. "Sure." She lead him out, and to the aft section of the ship. "This is Engineering. Our warp engines use variable geometry pylons, which allows us to exceed warp five without damaging subspace."

"Mila Rose!" A woman's voice called. "Is that calibration finished?"

"Just a minute, sir!" Came the reply from the walkway above.

TREA followed the first woman's voice to its source, and saw her climbing up from a lower deck. She appeared to be a blonde Vulcan, which was a true rarity. "That's Lieutenant T'Ia Halibel. And in case you're wondering, she's only half Vulcan."

The woman on the walkway above them appeared to be a Klingon. "You two down there!" She yelled. "Either help us, or get out of here!"

"I think that's our cue to leave," TREA said.

"I agree." Miska led him back into the turbolift. On their way up, they were joined by a red-haired Lieutenant.

Before TREA could inquire, the woman reached her hand out, her face lighting up like a class seven pulsar. "Hello there! I'm Orihime Inoue, ship's counselor."

He shook her hand. "Translator Robot of Extreme Attractiveness—you can call me TREA for short."

"You're pretty cute for an android," she said.

"I get that a lot," TREA said, winking at her.

Orihime giggled. "You're funny, too."

The turbolift stopped. "Yes," Miska said, glaring at Orihime, "He has his funny moments."

"She's got me outdone," TREA said to Orihime, pointing his thumb at Miska. "The truth is that I'm an obnoxious ass who loves getting a rise out of her at every opportunity."

Miska grabbed his thumb and wrenched it behind his back. "Look, do you want to continue this tour or not?"

"Yes," TREA said.

"Then get your act together!" She pulled him out of the turbolift amidst Orihime's fit of laughter. "I swear, that girl's brain is so sugar-coated, she finds everything funny."

"She certainly is a ray of sunshine."

"That she is," Miska said. "I think we would have given up on our journey home long ago if Orihime hadn't been here to brighten our spirits. We've had three encounters with the Borg, all of which ended badly. Anyway," she opened the third door on the left. "This is our sick bay, which is managed by Doctor Szayel A. Granz."

A pink-haired man sat at a desk. All of the beds were empty. "Don't disturb me," he said without looking up from his work.

"We don't mean to, Doctor Granz," Miska said, "I'm just giving a tour of the ship to our guest."

"Look all you want. Just don't touch anything, and don't bother me."

Miska pointed to the ceiling. "Our ventilation system has a laser grid on the inside which destroys all airborne pathogens. I don't think that'll be much of a concern for you, though."

"Androids can get sick, you know."

"Really?" Miska asked. "What's that like?"

TREA looked into her eyes. "My guidance gyroscopes go out of alignment, my thermal regulators shut off, my emotion algorithm goes haywire…an android fever, if you will. In fact, I think I feel one coming on now."

Miska looked back up at him, smiling with narrow eyes. "That's got to be one of the cheesiest pickup lines I've ever heard."

TREA was unfazed by this. "And yet, you liked it. You like being admired, just like every sentient creature in the galaxy."

Miska's face reddened once more, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a tone from her comm badge. "Aizen to Ensign Ueda."

Relief swept over her. "Ueda here."

"Our guest is getting a subspace transmission on a secure frequency."

TREA bent down, putting his face a mere three inches from Miska's badge. "Captain, do you think you could patch it through to Sick bay?"

"I'm afraid not," Aizen answered. "He insisted that his conversation with you be kept private. He won't even let me see his face. You can use my Ready Room to speak with him. Just come to the Bridge, and I'll show you where it is."

"Thanks, Captain. I appreciate it. TREA out."

"You know," Miska said, "He could have heard you just fine without you bending down."

"Really? I guess I'll have to remember that, then."

"You'd better," she growled. "Now get going."

"Later, hot stuff," TREA said as he walked out of the room.

The turbolift doors opened. "Nice to finally meet you in person. I've never been face-to-face with a real android before, much less one with his own freighter." Aizen extended his hand.

TREA shook it. "And I've never been on the bridge of a Federation vessel, with or without permission, much less a ship as impressive as this one."

"Let's save the mutual flattery for later. My Ready Room is this way," he gestured to a door on the end of the bridge, and they walked through.

"Sir? My guest is here to speak with you," Aizen said upon entering the room.

A deep, slow laugh echoed through the room. "Goo!d. If y!ou wou!ld be so gracio!us as to l!eave us al!one, Fed!eration Capt!ain."

"Of course," Aizen walked out.

"Hello, Yami," TREA said when the door closed. "What can I do for you?"

"Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo," the viewscreen came on, and showed a bloated Hutt with red stripes painted over the top of his head, and a bowl of Altairian chocolates in his arm. "I wa!s so wor!ried abou!t y!ou w!hen I coul!dn't cont!act y!our vesse!l, T!REA. Who wo!uld hav!e e!ver gue!ssed, y!ou, ab!oard a Fed!eration sh!ip?"

"These things happen," TREA said. "My warp engines overloaded, and I got stranded out in the Beta Quadrant. Luckily, the iNoches/i spotted me, and they're fixing my ship right now."

"A!nd th!ey t!ook y!ou ab!oard with!out conf!iscating y!our carg!o or int!errogating y!ou?"

"Yes," TREA answered, amused. "The Federation have no jurisdiction over this part of the quadrant, and they're so uptight about rules, they just left my cargo alone."

"Hoo hoo hoo! A!ll the mor!e fo!ols, t!hey." Yami grabbed a handful of chocolates and shoveled them into his mouth.

TREA stared. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Yami. Despite what Romulan propaganda might tell you, Starfleet are not fools. They refused to share their technology that allows them to pass safely through plasma storms, because they worried I might give it to an unprepared or untrustworthy party."

"I!t's as i!f t!hey kno!w yo!u alr!eady," Yami laughed.

"Just cut to the chase. You didn't call me solely to congratulate me on being party to overly lucky circumstances, did you?"

For the first time in their conversation, Yami looked serious. "Luc!ky? I sh!ould say n!ot! Y!ou are runn!ing la!te on my orde!r, and it w!ill c!ost y!ou. I'm cut!ting f!ive hund!red ba!rs of gol!d-pres!sed la!tinum ou!t of y!our paym!ent."

"But," TREA pleaded, "My engines malfunctioned."

"I d!on't wa!nt exc!uses!" The angry Hutt bellowed. "Y!ou sho!uld !have gotte!n y!our en!gines serv!iced at a st!arbase!" He leaned in close to the screen, making his large, slimy face fill it. "If y!ou was!te an!y mo!re t!ime, y!ou ca!n expe!ct to se!e y!our fa!ce on t!he nex!t epi!sode of 'B!ig Sh!ot'." The transmission ended, displaying the Federation logo on the screen.

TREA stood up and walked out, and Aizen noticed him. "You don't have to tell me, but who were you talking to?"

"My boss," TREA said, looking nothing if not a little annoyed. "He was just giving me a browbeating for running slow."

"Who exactly is he? He gave the universal translator a bit of trouble."

"Yami the Hutt," TREA answered.

"I've never encountered Hutts before. What are they like?"

"Imagine, if you will, a half-ton Talkarian slug with no antennae, short, stubby arms, the temper of a Nausicaan, the appetite of a Hynerian, and the greed of a Ferengi."

"Sounds…charming." Aizen said, looking uncomfortable.

"They're not much to look at or talk to, but they're powerful, and they pay well. Oh, and speaking of payment…"

"Forget it," Aizen said. "The Federation has no currency. You don't need to pay us for repair, as we're obliged to render aid."

"I wouldn't feel right not doing isome/ithing to show my gratitude," TREA put his hand on Aizen's shoulder. "I took a look at your navigational array. This is an area of space that I've been through before. You're headed into Romulan territory, and the only way around it will add another five hundred light years to your journey. Knowing the Romulans as I do, I would not advise you to let your presence here be known to them. They'll use it as an excuse to start a war with the Federation."

"That's all true," Aizen said. "In fact, Admiral Unohana was telling me the same thing. I would have asked her for a solution, but…well, let's just say that behind her pretty face and elegant hairstyle, she's got a way of making your skin crawl."

"That kind of woman, huh?" TREA nodded understandingly. "Well, I think I can be of help to you. As it so happens, my freighter is equipped with a cloaking device. I'd be more than willing to give you the technical specifications for it as a gesture of gratitude for repairs."

Much like his Ensign had done, Aizen raised an eyebrow. "What do you i_really/i_ want for it?"

"I told you the repairs will do!" TREA insisted. "Is it really that hard to believe that I don't want something else? Come on, we're both Captains here. Why can't we trust one another?"

Aizen shrugged, TREA's hand dropping from his shoulder. "Who am I to refuse? You don't need food or drink, after all. You have a deal." He held out his hand to seal the bargain, and TREA shook it. "Computer, have you been recording this conversation?"

"Affirmative. The transaction has been stored in memory."

"You'd use a recording to hold me to my word?"

"Of course," Aizen said. "You can never be too careful, especially outside the Alpha Quadrant."

"And here I was beginning to think you knew nothing about me. I'll contact my ship and have the technical diagram sent to your Lieutenant Halibel." He touched a spot on his forehead. "Worvil?"

"Hmm?"

TREA stifled a laugh. "The Engineering team hasn't removed your gag?"

"Mm-mm."

"They're smart. I want you to transmit the schematic for the cloaking device to the iNoches/i."

"Mm mm fmm?"

"Of course I'm sure. Just do it."

"Mm mmbm mmhm."

"We have the schematic, sir," the Cardassian said. "Sending it to Engineering."

"Oh, hey there!" TREA noticed him. "Mind if I call you 'Spoony'?"

"Yes," he replied. "My name is Nnoitra."

"Nnoitra…what an odd name for a Cardassian."

Nnoitra ignored him, and the comm system chimed. "Away team to iNoches/i."

"iNoches/i here," Aizen replied.

"We have finished replacing the warp core, and have repaired all the other damaged systems."

"Stand by to be transported back."

"Well," TREA said, "It was nice meeting you. I'm glad we could be of service to one another."

"Maybe we'll meet again. I'm sure my crew's families will want to thank you." He tapped his badge. "Ensign Ueda, please escort our guest to Transporter Room 1."

"Gladly," came a voice from behind them.

TREA stepped onto the pad. "Are you really that anxious to get rid of me?"

"Let's see," Miska counted on her fingers. "You're obnoxious, you're gluttonous, and you're a pervert. On the other hand, you did just save our lives."

"One out of four isn't bad," TREA smiled. "Yes, I'll miss you, too. You intrigue me like few women have."

Miska held up her hand, giving a small wave. "Energize."

TREA landed back in the cockpit of his freighter. The computer wasn't making its muffled cries, so he removed the gag. "Nothing to say, Worvil?"

The computer sighed. "Yes, sir, I underestimated you. I'll never do it agai—WHAAAT?"

"What's rattled your processor?"

"Sir…don't tell me…in your arm…is that really…"

TREA opened a compartment in his arm and removed a smile vial containing a clear liquid. "Yes, it is. They had a liter of it in their sick bay."

"What the hell were you thinking? Don't you know that's number one on the Federation's contraband list? Just ASKING for it is a crime! They'd probably notice if even one milligram was missing!"

"With this, I'm hoping Yami will reconsider docking my pay. Now, resume our original course. Warp three."

The computer sounded nervous. "If you say so, sir."

Back on the iNoches/i, Doctor Granz had a hunch; one of those familiar hunches that the mad act upon and the sane brush off as delusions. He decided to examine the container in his medicine cabinet. THAT container. Sure enough, his hunch was right. "Sick bay to Bridge."

"Go ahead, Doctor," Aizen's voice came.

"Has the freighter left yet?"

"He's powering up his…oh, he just went to warp. Why, what is it?"

"You have to go after him," Granz said in a tone of urgency that rarely manifested itself outside of work hours. "It's very important."

"Why?"

"Because," Granz's voice was trembling with rage. "I am missing three grams of bio-mimetic gel!"

"Oh hell. Nnoitra, put us on an intercept course. Maximum warp."

"Aye, sir," Nnoitra entered the data. "Engaging." The ship shot into warp.

"TREA," Aizen said to nobody in particular, "You are by far the stupidest android in the galaxy."


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't want that android to get away at any costs. Consider what he stole."

"True enough. But what if he's usin' his cloakin' device, too?"

Aizen smiled. "He isn't. He's so overly confident in himself, he would never suspect that we noticed the missing gel. Doctor Granz has three liters of it."

"Ah, I see. So yer sayin' it takes one to know one, right? That mindset may get ya into trouble someday."

"If you know me that well, Number One, you know that I don't consider egotism to be a vice."

Gin sat back in his chair, cracking his neck. "Whatever ya say."

"Captain," Lieutenant Nnoitra spoke. "I'm picking up the freighter on long-range scanners. We're coming up on him fast."

"Aizen to Engineering"

"Engineering here," Halibel responded.

"Has the cloaking device been assembled and installed yet, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir. Installed and operational."

"Good work. Activate it immediately."

"We are now cloaked."

The narrow-eyed first officer cast a curious glance at his Captain. "Sir, why're we cloakin' the ship? That freighter ain't exactly a match fer us."

"On screen." Amidst all the stars and nebulae rushing by, there was a small blue dot in the center of the viewscreen, and it was growing larger by the second. Aizen lightly tapped his fist on Gin's leg. "See, what did I tell you? Lieutenant, bring us to within transporter range, and set our speed to match his."

"Sir?" Gin looked quizzically at him. "Do ya really mean to transport him aboard while we're in warp?"

Aizen laughed. "Of course not, Number One. I'll be sending iyou/i over to fetch him, and Ensign Ueda as well. She knows him best, if that counts for anything. I want that gel back, and if we alert our presence to him, he'll raise his shields and in all likelihood, escape."

"I…see, sir. Well, who am I to question ya? I'm only the First Officer."

TREA rolled the vial in his fingers. "I believe Yami would be willing to pay five hundred bars for just one gram of this stuff. So, Worvil, how far away is it?"

"Six light years. We should arrive in about three…uh-oh."

"What's gotten your circuits in a wad?"

"Sir, I'm detecting a slight subspace variance about a hundred kilometers aft."

TREA shrugged. "Maintain course. It's probably just a pulsar."

The computer's voice turned urgent. "Sir, don't you remember what happened last time I detected something like this? We were boarded by Romulan customs, and they confiscated all our cargo."

"There's nothing to worry about. We're not in Romulan territory."

"I'd say ya got lots t'worry about, Robo-boy."

TREA grabbed a disruptor from inside the arm of his chair and spun around to face the speaker. Sure enough, Commander Gin was pointing a phaser at him. However, seeing Ensign Ueda standing next to him made him reconsider. He dropped the disruptor. "I've had women chase me quite far before, but this is…"

"Shut up," Miska snapped. "You stole bio-mimetic gel. That substance is under strict control by the Federation, and for a good reason: you can make biological weapons with it. Now, shut off your warp engines."

"Fine. Worvil, bring us to a complete stop."

The freighter's engines went quiet. "Gin to iNoches/i. We got 'im. Tractor in his ship, Nnoitra."

In just a manner of minutes, TREA found himself in the brig, and the gel was returned to Doctor Granz. Miska stood guard. "I just don't get you. Did you ihonestly/i think Dr. Granz wouldn't notice the missing gel?"

"I guess I never should have underestimated the mad," TREA said in a matter-of-factly tone.

She turned on him. "You don't care about what you could have done? What if your buyer was going to use it to make bio-weapons? Oh wait, you're an android. That couldn't possibly affect you."

"I had my reasons," TREA said. "That's all I can tell you."

"Oh," Miska smiled sarcastically, "Your reasons? These are apparently good enough for you to potentially doom an entire planet to a slow, cruel death, and important enough for you not to tell us what they are? How convenient."

"In the meantime, why am I being held here? You've gotten your bio-mimetic gel back, so why am I being held hostage? What's going to happen to me?"

"The Captain and his staff are still debating that. In all likelihood, you'll be kept here in the Brig for the remainder of our voyage, then when we finally get back to Federation space, you'll be tried. I am sure the sentence will not be light."

The door to the holding room opened. A sharp, strong air entered the room, followed by a Klingon in battle armor. "Commander GrImmjow, what is it?"

He grinned. "I am here to relieve you, Ensign."

TREA pointed. "Who's this big lug?"

"He's the only survivor from the Klingon ships that were assisting us." Miska smiled mischievously. "I leave the android in your capable hands, Commander. If he tries to escape, don't be afraid to…rough him up a bit."

"I only hope he does try," GrImmjow said, spinning his iD'k tahg/i knife on the tip of his finger. "I've never fought an android before. It should be an interesting experience."

"Well, gentlemen, I bid you both good evening," Miska stepped out of the room. "Have fun!" The last thing she heard before the door slid shut was GrImmjow's delighted laugh. She liked the company of Klingons, as they were a race that knew better than any other how to enjoy what life had to offer. During his time aboard the iNoches/i, GrImmjow had taken it upon himself to teach the crew a number of Klingon songs, and had planned several upscale parties. Whenever they faced a powerful foe, GrImmjow was on the Bridge, giving his input, which always proved useful, as well as his rallying the crew. What Counselor Inoue had done for their emotions, Commander GrImmjow did for their courage. Even so, the brief conversation with GrImmjow had not alleviated the guilt Miska was feeling. How could she have let that android hoodwink her so easily in sickbay? No doubt he placed nanites around the jar and programmed them for a site-to-site transport. She had allowed herself to be pulled in by his handsome face and flattering words; she had momentarily strayed off of her path in life, and to remedy that, she would need guidance.

After dinner, Miska returned to her quarters; she dimmed the lights, lit two large red candles, knelt before a makeshift altar with her hands pressed together, and offered up a supplication: "Jia'kaja, tre'nu'tol'a rem. La'por i'lanu kos. Ema iu roo kana. I'nar tan'a'tali nor." She wasn't completely sure she would be heard, being over fifty thousand light years from Bajor, but it never hurt to try. She repeated her prayer four times for good measure, and opened her eyes. To her amazement, she was no longer in her quarters, but rather in the mess hall. There was a strange red tint about the room. She looked around, and saw Aizen sitting at a table.

He looked up at her, like a zoologist examining a rare species of animal. "It is corporeal," he said.

"Captain? What are you talking about?"

The door to the mess hall opened, and TREA walked in. "It is a female."

"That ain't the half of it," Gin said, stepping out from behind a wall. "She's of Bajor."

Realization hit Miska, and she felt her back erupting with goosebumps. "You're…the Prophets?" She knelt before them on one knee. "I never thought I'd speak with you. I am Ueda Miska." This was how the Prophets spoke to corporeal beings—in visions, where they assumed the forms of people familiar to whomever they were addressing.

"Her ipagh/i is strong," Aizen said.

"I seek guidance from you," Miska said. "What must I do to stay on the path you have laid out for me?"

"You ain't strayed from your path," Gin assured her.

"What do you mean?"

TREA spoke up. "The TREA is the one you seek. He will help you see the path that is laid before you."

"Do not fear," Aizen consoled her. "This path is not yours alone. It is the path also of those who are with you."

"But, how can I get them to listen to me? I'm just a lowly Ensign."

"The TREA has the answers ya seek," Gin told her.

"He refuses to tell me anything."

"He may not speak," TREA said, "But he can still divulge."

This was a troubling aspect of the Prophets: they spoke in riddles.

"The TREA is your guide to the path," Aizen reminded her. "Seek his knowledge."

A bright flash, and Miska found herself back in her quarters, kneeling at her altar. She had to discover whatever TREA was hiding. But how to get it without interrogating him? The Prophets had told her there was a way, and they did not lie…

"He stole my most precious material!" Dr. Granz slammed his fist against the Ready Room table. "I want to see some punishment!"

"Be that as it may," Aizen said, "He did provide us with a schematic for a cloaking device, and it worked."

"And he is an android," Gin reminded them. "He may yet be useful to us."

"How can we trust him?" Granz demanded. "If he wanted to escape onto a passing ship, he could easily bypass our access codes."

"We could give him dirty and dangerous jobs," Aizen said, "And make sure that he is closely supervised."

The door to the room opened. "…go in there right now, it's a staff meeting!"

"I told you, it's important. They need to hear it, spoon-face! Now get your slimy hands off me before I cut them off!" This was followed by several profanities in Bajoran and Cardassian.

Miska stepped inside, clutching a data pad in her hand. "I apologize for the ruckus. Captain, I need to show you something."

"But of course. What is it, Ensign?"

"On a hunch, I hacked into the android's freighter's computer, and I downloaded his flight plan. I think you'll find it quite interesting, sir."

Aizen browsed through the pad. "Yes, that is interesting. He just goes to that one spot…and it stops. I didn't think androids made those sorts of mistakes."

"They don't," Gin said. "Which I why I think we oughta let 'im out and have 'im tell us about it."

"He won't talk," Miska said. "I've tried."

"Then we will find out for ourselves," Aizen decided. "After all, Starfleet's mission is to explore. Where will avoiding the unknown get us?"

"Yer always on the ball, sir," Gin flattered him.

"Aizen to helm."

"Helm here," Nnoitra said in an exasperated voice.

"Set us on course 856 mark 3, maximum warp."

"Course laid in, sir."

"Engage." The ship lurched forward. "Do you have anything else you wish to tell me, Ensign?"

"Nothing comes to mind, sir."

"You're looking a little haggard. Go get some sleep."

That was one order Miska enjoyed receiving. "Yes, sir."

The next morning, she trotted off to the mess hall. In addition to her usual breakfast of raktajino, she ordered a plate of hasperat and a piece of groatcake topped with syrup. "What's this?" Lieutenant Kurosaki, who served as cook to save replicator energy, looked confused. "You keep insisting that a cup of raktajino is all you need for breakfast."

"The groatcake isn't for me," she said. "And I haven't had hasperat for a long time."

"People with habits that long-lasting don't change them on a whim," the Lietenant observed, flipping an omelet. "What changed in your life?"

"It's a private matter."

Kurosaki shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Miska ate her hasperat quickly, which was also unusual for her. Normally, she would take her time drinking her raktajino while reading her duty roster. She already knew what her job was, and she had her reasons to get to it early. "Your cooking is improving, Ichigo," she said, heading out carrying the cake and raktajino with her.

"Don't forget to bring the dishes back when you're done!" He called after her.

She walked into the holding room, and heard loud singing. "'ej HumtaH 'ej DechtaH 'Iw/ 'ej Doq SoDtaH ghoSpa' Sqral bIQtIq!" The voices belonged to TREA and Commander GrImmjow.

Just for the sake of the moment, Miska joined in. It was Grimmjow's favorite song. "'e' pa' jaj law' mo' jaj puS/ jaj qeylIS molar mIgh HoHchu'qu'!" The two males burst out in laughter, simultaneously hitting their foreheads against the force field.

"Shoot," TREA said in mock disappointment, "That didn't overload it."

GrImmjow crookedly walked up to Miska. "Ensign," he said, stumbling over his own feet, "It's good to see you again! This android actually makes pretty good company. His Klingon is perfect."

"What can I say?" TREA shrugged. "I'm programmed for languages and loving."

"I'm here to relieve you, Commander. Captain's orders."

"Yeah?" GrImmjow said, taking a swig of blood wine. "I think I'll stay here longer. There are more songs to be sung."

Miska stared him in his eyes. "Get out this instant, you drunken fool, or you'll be sharing a cell with the android."

"You've got blood in your veins, little Bajoran. Very well, I'll go. It would be cowardly for me to put you in your place like I would a fellow Klingon."

She handed him her raktajino. "And drink this. You need to sober up."

TREA stared at the cake in Miska's hand. "So," he asked as Grimmjow left, "Are you going to eat that?"

"That depends," Miska said coyly. "Are you going to tell me the truth about where you come from?"

"I did tell you the truth," he insisted. Miska took a bite of the cake, and he winced. "I really do remember living on a planet of women in the Gamma Quadrant."

"Then tell me about your flight path," Miska said. "Why does it just end?"

"It doesn't," TREA said. "It continues, only somewhere else."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"If you don't mind my asking, where is the iNoches/i headed right now?"

She saw no harm in telling him. "We're following your flight plan."

TREA smiled. "You'll understand soon enough. Especially you."

"I suppose that's as good an answer as I'll ever get out of you," Miska sighed. She took two more bites of the cake, and let down the force field long enough to give it to TREA.

"Thank you for…er, what's left of this cake."

"You would have gotten more if you'd been more direct."

The intercom sounded. "Bridge to Ensign Ueda."

"Yes, Captain?"

"We've figured out why the android's flight plan is so strange. Perhaps you'd like to take a look?"

"I'm busy guarding him at the moment, sir."

"Okay, I'll patch it through to the Brig's viewscreen." The Federation logo disappeared, and was replaced with a view of space. A large blue-white mass of cloud-like energy spiraled around a common center, flowing down into what looked like a tunnel.

Miska blinked. "Sir, is that what I think it is?"

"Yes," Aizen said. "We sent a class four probe into it. It's completely stable, and artificial to boot. Just like the one near Bajor."

Miska's eyes were practically glowing. "Another Celestial Temple. Where does it lead?"

"We don't know. The probe was destroyed before its location could be determined. Though…we could send somebody to investigate in a shuttle, and they'll communicate with us via a transponder we've placed in the wormhole itself. The android's been there before, I'm quite sure, so we could send him. Of course, we would need somebody from our crew to supervise him."

Miska had already figured out Aizen's plan. "When should we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready."


	3. Chapter 3

"A real, stable wormhole. Why didn't you just say it from the get-go?"

TREA shrugged. "I had my reasons."

Miska let out a short, sarcastic, single laugh. "Ha! That again? You're awfully secretive for an android."

"I'll give you information about what's on the other side on a need-to-know basis. Suffice it to say, you're headed into a place where you need to be cautious."

"I know all about that," Miska assured him. "I've been through the Bajoran wormhole to visit the Gamma Quadrant a number of times. Even after the war, the Dominion's still rather unfriendly." The shuttle _Amazon_ pushed into the center of the cloud, entering territory unknown. As it flew through, Miska looked all around at the glowing blue lights emanating from the walls of the wormhole. TREA stared at her. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just…you look like a kid who's discovered the candy clearance code on the replicator. It's very cute."

Miska rolled her eyes. "I told you before, flattery will get you nowhere. You tried to steal from our sickbay. I haven't forgotten that."

"We're almost through," TREA pointed out.

A small black dot lay in front of them, growing larger and larger. Stars began appearing in it. Finally, they were clear of the wormhole. "Slowing to half impulse." Miska called up the Navigational array. "Let's see…I'm not getting a signal from the _Noches_ outside of the wormhole. Let's look around. Computer, magnify section 484C, 100x normal view." She stared at the image. It was a galaxy, one that she was sure she had seen in her Stellar Cartography classes. Then again, many galaxies looked alike. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check that one area. "Emphasize sector 321D. Magnify." She saw a yellow giant star. It had a system of planets. She looked carefully, making sure she wasn't imagining things. "Computer, is this the nearest galaxy to our location?"

"Affirmative," it responded.

"No way, that means we're…"

"Oh, you've figured it out?"

"Yes. Thanks for not spoiling it for me." She accessed the comm. system. "_Amazon_ to _Noches_."

Aizen's voice came back. "What is it, Ensign Ueda? Have you discerned your location yet?"

"Yes, sir, and you're not going to believe it. We're in the Andromeda Galaxy."

"Quite extraordinary," Aizen said, his voice full of amusement. "You are in a galaxy far, far away."

Miska's console chimed. "Sir, there are three small vessels nearby. They've detected us, and are approaching."

"What specs do you have on them?"

"Just a moment." Miska boosted the power to the long-range sensors. "Each has one occupant…humanoid male. Powered by two ion-based engines, moderate weaponry, and no shields. It's grey, and it has hexagonal wings on either side."

"Hail them."

"Aye, sir." Miska sent a standard greeting. "They're not responding…and they've started powering up weapons."

"Fire a warning shot at them."

Miska fired the lowest blast the shutter's phasers were capable of. "The center craft has sustained fifty percent damage, but they're still approaching." The craft rocked to the side. "They've opened fire."

"Give 'em hell, Ensign," came Commander Gin's voice. Miska fired the shuttle's phasers at full power, destroying each of the fighter ships in succession.

"Enemy ships destroyed, sir."

"We should head back to the _Noches_ now," TREA advised. "Once those fighters are reported as missing, there will be more, and this shuttlecraft won't be a match for them."

Miska plotted a return course. "For once, we find ourselves in agreement."

Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway pressed the sides of her pillow against her ears, hoping to shut out the chiming she'd heard. At her newly-attained position, she knew that she should not be receiving the midnight alerts that had bothered her so immensely as a Captain. The adventure that had come from her career was mostly gone, but one of the perks of being a rank-and-file officer had returned, one that she enjoyed immensely. Naturally, she was quite irritated at being robbed of it right now. Shut up, she thought to the monitor. It clearly was not listening, so she sat up, removed her blindfold, and answered the call. Captain Sousuke Aizen was on the other end. She had been one of his closer confidantes, as she could empathize with his situation, having been in a similar one herself. But at this hour, he was nothing but annoying. "Hello, Kathryn," he said; his referring to a superior officer by her first name was one of his more irritating traits. "My, you look lovely at any hour."

"That's Admiral Janeway to you, Sousuke," she said, unmoved as always by his false flattery. "Do you have any idea what hour it is in San Francisco?"

"I didn't when I connected to Pathfinder, but I assure you, this is news you'll want to hear." He raised his eyebrows enticingly.

"Hmm? What's going on?" Janeway's roommate, Admiral Retsu Unohana, got out of bed and walked over. "What does he want?" She pointed at Aizen.

Aizen noticeably jumped at seeing her. "Oh! Well," he cleared his throat, "I've actually got three pieces of news, all of them related to each other. First, we have encountered something quite extraordinary. An android, every bit as advanced as Admiral Data, who has his own freighter. He was stranded, and we repaired his ship. In return, he gave us the technical specifications for a cloaking device."

"That's only worth my attention if you've still got him," Janeway said dismissively.

"We do have him. Matter of fact, we were holding him in our Brig. He tried to steal some bio-mimetic gel from our sickbay. After we caught him, one of our Ensigns, Ueda Miska, obtained his flight plan. It looked unusual, so we followed it, which brings me to my second item of news. His flight path seemed to just end at one point. At that end was a wormhole. Not just any wormhole, a stable one. Not only was it stable, our study of it also indicated that it was artificial. Just like the one near Bajor."

"That is intriguing," Unohana said. "Do you know what's on the other end?"

"Indeed I do," Aizen said proudly. "And that leads to my third, final, and most impressive piece of news of all. I sent Ensign Ueda and the android through the wormhole in a shuttle craft. Their astrometrics equipment revealed that they were in..." he paused for dramatic effect, "the Andromeda Galaxy."

Janeway's eyes were wide. "That is amazing. The only presence we've ever had in Andromeda was when Kirk's Enterprise sojourned there briefly."

"I think you've figured out why exactly I'm calling. So just say it. I'm sure Pathfinder's almost out of power."

"Yes," Janeway said, "You may take the Noches through the wormhole.

"But," Unohana fixed him with her piercing glare, causing him to lean back stiffly in his seat, "You must follow First Contact procedures to the letter."

"Y-y-yes, sir!" Aizen stammered. "I most certainly will."

"You'd better," Janeway said, "Or you'll be sorry. Starfleet out." She shut off the communicator.

Unohana rubbed Janeway's shoulders. "You seem to have quite an understanding with him."

"I was stuck in the Delta Quadrant for seven years. I know what he's going through," Janeway reminded her. "He's got a crew to get home, but he's also got the spirit of Starfleet in him. If he weren't concerned somehow, he would have just gone through the wormhole without asking us for permission."

Unohana applied more pressure. "Come on, Kathryn. I've seen the way you look when you talk to him, and I've heard plenty of stories from your old crew members. He reminds you of yourself, doesn't he? Cautious, but brash. And very strong and commanding. From the tone of your voice, it sounds to me like a mother talking to her son."

Janeway sighed. "Yes, I suppose you're right. You know me too well, Retsu."

She removed her hands and grinned. "Damn right I do."

On the other side of the galaxy, Aizen walked out of his Ready Room, a smug smile on his face. "Hello, sir," Gin noticed him. "You look like you done hit the jackpot."

"I got permission from Command to go through the wormhole," Aizen said.

"How'd ya ever do that?"

He brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. "It's my charms, Gin. I asked specifically to talk to Admiral Janeway. She's got a weakness for me, you know. And she's a damn fine woman. As soon as we get back to Earth, I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Best of luck to ya with that, Cap'n." Gin stifled a laugh.

"So, Ensign," TREA asked, offering Miska his hand as he stepped out of the shuttle, "How does it feel to be the first Bajoran to visit the Andromeda Galaxy?"

She didn't take it. "I don't know that I am. My people have been capable of space travel for over three thousand years. When humans had barely discovered metallurgy, we had made it all the way to Cardassia Prime."

"Interesting," TREA remarked. "Then again, you did have your Prophets to guide you."

Miska gestured for TREA to walk ahead of her down the hall. "They didn't tell us how to build light-propelled ships. They just gave us our religion, and we did the rest."

Nnoitra came around the corner. "Is that conceit I'm detecting?"

"Is that jealousy I'm detecting?" Miska shot back at him.

Nnoitra ignored her. "You're due for a shift on the Bridge, Ueda. And the Captain wants the android there, too. We're going into the wormhole."

As they stepped off the turbolift and onto the Bridge, Aizen greeted TREA. "Please keep in mind," he said with a smile, "As you assist me in navigating the Andromeda Galaxy, that your court martial for stealing the bio-mimetic gel is still pending. Any advice of yours that I heed which harms this ship or any of the crew will be counted as a charge of endangerment of a Starfleet vessel. Do I make myself clear?"

TREA smiled back. "Inescapably."

Aizen lightly slapped him on the back. "Good. Now take a seat," he gestured towards the chair to the left of the Captain's seat.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, sitting down.

"Ensign Ueda," Aizen instructed, "Plot a course through the wormhole. Half impulse."

"Yes sir," Miska entered the appropriate data. "Impulse engines engaged."

Though it appeared that they were heading towards empty space, a large circular cloud opened in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. In the center were a thousand glowing lights. Everybody aboard the ship was at their windows, staring at the sight around them. "Captain," TREA said halfway through the wormhole, "You might want to activate the cloaking device. The force that attacked us has more or less a limitless supply of those fighters."

"Good idea. Engineering, activate the cloaking device."

They emerged from the wormhole, and sure enough, they were surrounded on all sides by the same grey fighters that Miska had encountered earlier. She looked at her data panel. "Sir, I'm reading forty...no, fifty of the same ion engine fighters that we encountered earlier. A few of them with shielding, a few armed with explosives as well as energy weapons."

The Second Officer, Tousen, shrugged. "A shuttlecraft was enough to destroy three. If we stay cloaked, we could easily take them out," he suggested.

"No," TREA said. "With the amount of energy it takes to cloak a ship your size, firing your phasers while cloaked would tear the ship apart."

"He's right," Lieutenant Halibel's voice came from engineering. "Our external holoemitters are running on full."

"We could fire photon torpedoes at 'em," Gin suggested.

"No," Commander GrImmjow stepped onto the Bridge. "We don't have enough to take them all out, we can't get any more until we're in Federation space again, and even if we had a limitless supply, we couldn't fire them fast enough to avoid giving away our position."

"Oh well," Aizen folded his hands behind his head, "Guess we'll just have to sneak past them until we find a friendly civilization. Ensign Ueda, take us forward, full impulse."

"Yes, sir." She started up the engines. They traveled two hundred kilometers when a bright green flash flew across the viewscreen and the windows.

"What just happened?"

Miska fiddled with her control panel. "Sir, we...just went through a tachyon grid."

Their cloaking device had been knocked out. "Oh, hell." Aizen sat upright in his chair as several fighters blocked their path.

"They're hailing us. Audio only," Miska said.

"Put them through."

"Starfleet vessel," a sharp, almost artificial voice said, "You are in Imperial space. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. You will be taken prisoner and face trial at the Imperial Court on Coruscant."

"I'm Captain Sousuke Aizen of the U.S.S. Noches. We are on a mission of peace in this galaxy, and we have no hostile intent with you. We are mere expl-"

"This is your last warning," the voice said. "Lower your shields now, or we will open fire."

Aizen gave Miska the kill gesture, and she shut off the transmitter. "What will happen if we're taken hostage and tried for trespassing?" He asked TREA.

"We'll be found guilty. At best, we'll be sent to the spice mines on Kessel and forced to work long, grueling hours for the rest of our lives. At worst, we'll be executed."

Commander GrImmjow spoke. "I'd rather die here with honor than as some pitiful slave. I say we fight. At least we'll all go to Sto'vo'kor together."

"I agree," Aizen said, "I won't let our technology fall into the hands of cowards like these. I'd rather see this ship in a billion pieces than in their hands."

"So ya made up yer mind, then?" Gin asked.

"Yes," Aizen said. "Red alert. All hands to battle stations. Forward shields at maximum. Power up phasers. Let's show these...Imperials, or whatever they are, what this ship can do." A red light flashed on all decks of the ship, accompanied by a brief alarm.

One of the new features on the Valiant-class was the rapid-start phaser. It could go from cold to full power in less than a tenth of a second, which kept an enemy ship from detecting that it had powered up until it was too late. The Noches was equipped with three. Just as Aizen ordered, the phasers destroyed five fighters before the rest of the squadron had time to react. "Focus on the ones with the straight wings first," TREA said, "They're the weakest."

"You heard him, Ensign," Aizen instructed. Ten more fighters were destroyed, with most of the others returning fire.

"Shields at thirty-seven percent," Miska said.

"Attack pattern Gamma One!" Aizen yelled.

One of the fighters fired a projectile at them, rocking the whole ship. "Hull breaches on decks eight and nine!"

"Aizen to Sickbay, prepare to receive casualties from those decks!"

A coolant pipe on the ceiling of the Bridge ruptured, cool water vapor slowly gushing from it. Ensign Luppi's control panel overloaded, showering her face with sparks and ozone. Lieutenant Commander Tousen picked her up and carried her to the turbolift. Miska focused her fire on the fighters equipped with torpedoes. "Warp core breach detected!"

"Lieutenant Halibel, get on it!"

"I already am, sir!" Came the reply.

"Shields at three percent!" Miska yelled. "Seventeen fighters remaining, and half of our weapons array was knocked out."

"Engineering! Is that breach contained? We need to get out of here!"

"We can't defy the laws of physics, Captain!" Halibel called back.

"Sir, I'm detecting five more ships entering the area! They're of a different design than the ones attacking us." Miska displayed them on screen. They were in a V formation with four blue triangular ships, which were led by a larger, grey, circular ship. The new ships suddenly began firing on the fighters attacking the Noches, making short work of them. Once the fighters were destroyed, the new ships turned to face the Noches. "They've powered down weapons, and the lead ship is hailing us. Audio only."

"Put them through," Aizen said.

"Hey there!" Came a cheery male voice. "Never thought we'd see you Federation boys here. From the state of your ship, I'd say you need a hand."

"I'm Captain Sousuke Aizen. To whom am I speaking?"

"He's Captain Urahara, one of my business associates," TREA said. "Hey Kisuke, what's happening?"

"TREA?" the voice said, astonished. "What are you doing aboard a Federation ship?"

"It's a long story. I'll have to tell you later."

"That would probably be for the best," Urahara's tone grew nervous. "Captain Aizen, since you're in need of repairs, I'd advise you not to stay here. The Imps know about the wormhole, and they're very protective of it, not to mention they'd love to get their hands on a ship like yours. If you'd follow me, I'll escort you to the fleet of the Rebel Alliance; you'll be safe there. I've got a delivery to make to them anyway."

"We can't go to warp," Aizen said. "The best we can manage right now is 2/3 light speed."

"Okay, I'll stay 500 km ahead of you at all times. But we gotta get outta here. Even if the Imps are giving up on attacking you, they'll be sending more ships this way."

"Why do you say that?" Aizen asked curiously.

"Um...it'd probably be better if I had one of the Rebel Command explain it to you." Urahara turned his ship around. "In the meantime, just follow me."

"Of course. And thank you for your assistance."

"No problem. Urahara out." At full impulse, the trip to the Rebel fleets took ten hours. "Here we are," Urahara said. "I'll go make my delivery. Head for the ship that's shaped like a blaster. That's the Command ship, and they'll be wanting to speak to you."

When they located the Command ship, they were hailed immediately. On the other end of the line was a young, attractive, green-haired, human-looking woman. "Hello there, Starfleet vessel. I'm Neriel Tu, Supreme Commander of the Galactic Alliance Military. I see that you're in need of repairs. Shall I send a team over to assist you?"

"Yes, that would be helpful," Aizen said. "I'm Captain Sousuke Aizen, and my ship is the Noches. I'd just like to know something, Supreme Commander. How do you know what Starfleet is?"

"We know a lot about you," she answered with a smile. There was what was likely a battle scar running down her forehead to the bridge of her nose, and a red line across her face right underneath her eyes.

"But we know nothing about you. How do you know so much about us when we've never even been to this galaxy before?"

"It would be better if I answered all of your questions face-to-face. I'll arrange a shuttle to bring you aboard, and we can talk in my quarters."

"A shuttle won't be necessary. I can teleport aboard."

Neriel's eyes went wide. "You have teleportation technology? We must meet immediately!"

Aizen chuckled. "In just a minute, Supreme Commander. We need to get within transporter range first."

"By the way," she asked, "How do you know how to speak Basic?"

"I don't," Aizen pointed to his badge. "This contains a Universal Translator."

The Supreme Commander was no less surprised when Aizen materialized out of thin air before her. Aizen himself was surprised by how tall she turned out to be-three inches taller than him, but perhaps her height was part of what enabled her to command such a vast military at such a young age. She extended her hand to him. "It's a pleasure to finally meet a member of the Federation face to face. I never thought it would happen."

Aizen shook her hand. "And I never thought I'd leave my galaxy. Yet, here we are." He looked her over. "That's an interesting marking on your face."

"Ah, yes," Neriel rubbed her forehead. "I got it in the Battle of Coruscant."

"Not your scar," Aizen said, "The mark underneath your eyes."

"This? It's the Odelschwank clan tattoo. We control the Ganthor system, and are a long line of military strategists. That's how I got to be where I am today. But that's a story for another time," she gestured to a door at the end of the hall they were walking down. "My quarters are in there." She pressed her thumb against a pad by the door, and it disappeared into the wall. Her quarters were moderately lit, the dark red walls decorated with weapons ancient and modern, posters of old war heroes, and several bookshelves. She invited Aizen to sit in a round chair with a drink holder in one of the arms. "As a stranger to our galaxy," she said, pulling a bottle out of a refrigeration pod by her desk, "It's only fair that I offer you some of our hospitality. This is one of three remaining bottles of Alderaanian Brandy, a drink that is no longer manufactured."

"Why not?"

"Because the fruit that it's made from only grew on Alderaan, and Alderaan was destroyed twenty years ago." She poured a glass for Aizen and set it in his drink holder.

Aizen's eyes went wide. "Destroyed?"

"Yes," she said. "By the Galactic Empire."

"That's...horrible," Aizen said. "I doubt even the Dominion had a weapon that could destroy a planet." He took a sip of the drink, which made his eyes water and caused him to choke and sputter. "Wow, this stuff is strong!"

Neriel smiled. "If it's too much, would you care for a Romulan Ale?"

"Where did you get Romulan Ale?"

She took out a bottle, poured it into another glass, and took Aizen's brandy for herself. "It's a long story, but I do suppose that's why you're here."

"Yes," Aizen said. "I've got lots of unanswered questions. Please, begin."

"Very well," she cleared her throat. "About seventeen years ago, our predecessors, the Rebel Alliance, struck their second major blow against the Galactic Empire in an attempt to return our galaxy's government to a Republic. We captured the capital, Coruscant, and drove the Empire into hiding, restricting them to a mere eight sectors, and forcing them to relocate their capital to Bastion. For at least ten years, we were the major power of the galaxy, and we worked on rebuilding a just government. However, two years ago, the Imperials discovered a wormhole in the territory that we restricted them to. It was stable, and it led to your galaxy. They sent through a few ships to explore, and before long, they came across a Romulan scout ship, and made contact with their Empire. We don't know too many details of their interactions, but whatever happened, it caused the two powers to form a treaty. The Romulans have given some of their technology to the Imperials, and in exchange, the Imperials have been sending wave after wave of ships through the wormhole. They've been using their advanced technology to get an edge on us, and they've retaken almost half of their old territories. In addition, they've been contributing heavy amounts of troops and ships to the Romulans, which our intelligence reports indicate they are planning to use in a war against you and the Klingons." She paused, and drank down half of her drink. "Any questions?"

"How many ships and troops do you think the Imperials have sent through the wormhole at this point?"

"If I had to estimate, I'd say about five thousand fighters and twenty thousand soldiers. I'm sure you've figured out why I was so anxious to meet with somebody from the infamous United Federation of Planets."

"Infamous?" Aizen raised an eyebrow.

Neriel laughed. "Most of what we know about you, we learned from intercepting Romulan transmissions. So, naturally you sound pretty evil. But we know better than to take the word of the allies of our enemy at face value."

"Well," Aizen said, "You've told me a lot, and it's certainly useful to know. I'm pretty sure I get what you're driving at. You would like me to give you our technology, side with you in battle, and help you bring down the Galactic Empire once and for all, right?"

She nodded. "Yes. It would be in our mutual best interest, right?"

"It certainly would," Aizen said. "And I won't lie to you-it's a very tempting offer."

"So, do we have a deal?"

Aizen swallowed the last of his Romulan Ale. "I'm afraid not. You see, as a Starfleet officer, I am bound by a sacred oath. We do not share our technology with other cultures, and we do not interfere in their affairs."

"Oh," Neriel looked as though Aizen had spat on her. "The Prime Directive, right?"

"Yes," Aizen nodded. "The Prime Directive. And don't get me wrong, I'm not happy about how this is turning out. I would have loved to explore your galaxy, to get to know you better. But I'm afraid that unless another wormhole is discovered, we will never be returning. I wish you all the best in your war against the Galactic Empire, but I'm afraid that once our ship is repaired, we will be returning through the wormhole, and will take a final step to undermine the Romulans."

"So, you're going to let billions of people die just so that you can stick to your principles?" Her whole face was red now.

"If I know the Romulans, I'll know that they gave very little of their technology to the Empire. They want to make sure that they have the upper hand in case the Empire turns on them later. If I go through with my plan, they won't get anything else from the Romulans. Who knows, you might even be able to steal some of it from them."

A tear streamed from her eye. "Fine. Go back to your ship. See if I care."

"Don't even try that trick on me," Aizen said. "I can say no to a crying woman."

"Just get out of here, stupid-head!" Neriel yelled, her voice going three octaves higher. Aizen could have sworn she grew to half her height for a brief second.

"Aizen to Noches. One to beam up." He disappeared, just barely dodging the Supreme Commander's tantrum.

"So," Gin asked as Aizen rematerialized on the Bridge, "How did it go?"

"I'll let you and the rest of the ship know as soon as the repairs are done."

"Captain!" Nnoitra yelled, "Detecting a power-up in Shuttle Bay 2!"

"That's where the android's freighter is!" Aizen ran to the Lieutenant. "Bring up the video!" Sure enough, TREA's ship was lifting off. He could clearly be seen in the cockpit. "Close the door!"

"I can't," Nnoitra said, "It was damaged in the attack."

A single shot issued from the freighter. Several storage barrels were blown out into space as the force field overloaded and shut off. The freighter left, and as soon as it was clear of the ship, it went into warp. "Bridge to Medical. Is any of your bio-mimetic gel missing?"

"No," Dr. Granz answered.

Aizen collapsed into his chair. "Then I guess we'll just have to let him go. We've got more important things to worry about."

TREA was feeling quite proud of himself. He was out of trouble with the Federation, he had all his cargo intact, and he was going to make his delivery. True, he'd get a significant salary reduction, but at least he'd get Yami off his neck. "Sir..." his computer said.

"No, Worvil, I don't need you to say it. I know I'm smart. Sneaking off the Bridge while the Captain was occupied was just good thinking, and they no longer have a reason to chase me."

"That's not it..." A drop of animated sweat appeared on Worvil's interface.

"No, I'm not going to argue with Yami. I know better."

"Actually..."

"Spit it out already. What are you trying to tell me?"

"Sir, behind you."

TREA swiveled around. Miska was leaning against the back wall of the cockpit, a strange instrument in her hand. "Really, did you think our entire crew was that stupid?"

"What's the matter?" TREA brushed some of his hair out of his face. "Are you upset that I left without giving you a goodbye kiss?"

"Guess again, numbnuts." She stepped closer to him and pointed the object. "Do you know what this is? It's a focused electromagnetic pulse emitter. If I press the button, you will be deactivated and will not be conscious again until I decide you will be. Now, turn this ship around and go back to the Rebel fleet."

Miska had made the double mistake of standing too close and going after him alone. With his lightning reflexes, TREA pulled away the EMP device and crushed it to pieces in his hand. "You're welcome to try knocking me out with your fists. But you'll just hurt yourself in the end."

She sat down in the other chair. "So, where exactly are you headed?"

"Tatooine," he answered. "I've got to deliver my cargo. As soon as we have finished there, I promise I will return you to your ship."

"You know what's really strange, Gin?" Aizen observed as soon as the repairs were done. "The moment we were within communication range of the Command ship, that android left the Bridge in quite a hurry. It's almost as if he was hiding."

"And I think I've figured out why," Nnoitra said. "Look at this." He brought up what he'd found on the viewscreen. "It's a local entertainment program."

A man with dark skin and a woman with light hair appeared on the screen. "Amiiiiiiigo!" The man said. "Welcome back to Big Shot, the bounty hunter's show!"

The woman spoke. "Our next big catch, for sixty bars of gold-pressed latinum, is TREA! He's wanted by Yami the Hutt for not bringing in a shipment on time. Be careful as you take him out, because as an android, he has exceptional strength! And lady bounty hunters, be especially careful, because he's a charmer!" Nnoitra stopped the program.

"I see no point in going after him," Aizen said. "He was getting his lumps one way or another. True, we lost a good study subject for our ship's scientists, but we'll just have to press on."

"Sir," Gin said, "I jus' got a report from the repair crew sayin' that they've finished."

"Good," Aizen said, sitting down in his chair. He entered a code into his panel which activated ship-wide broadcast. "This is your Captain speaking. I know you were all anxious to explore the Andromeda galaxy, but I'm afraid we'll have to be cutting our visit short. I have received word that the Romulans have been giving secrets of their technology to the hostile forces we have encountered here, while in exchange, these forces, whom we shall call the Empire, have been supplying the Romulans with troops in preparation to start a war against the Federation. I cannot allow this to go on any longer, so as soon as we have returned to the Milky Way, we will be sealing the wormhole behind us."

"Wait!" Orihime's voice came back in reply. "Ensign Ueda's gone!"

"Really?" Aizen asked. "Computer, locate Ensign Ueda."

"Ensign Ueda is not aboard the ship."

Maybe the android had just stolen her comm badge to sell. "Computer, identify and give quantities of all sentient species aboard the _Noches_."

"Four hundred fifty-two humans, five Vulcans, one human-Vulcan hybrid, two Andorians, one Klingon, one Klingon-human hybrid, and one Cardassian." No Bajoran.

"Give last known location of Ensign Ueda."

"Shuttle Bay Two."

Aizen pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. "She went with the android! I swore I'd never leave any of my crew behind, but I've got no choice. Time is of the essence. Nnoitra, take us back to the wormhole. Warp three."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 95421.9_

_As of today, I have served in Starfleet for twelve years, seven months, two weeks, three days, ten hours, and nine minutes. In all that time, I have not once questioned my decision to serve here…until today._

_When I was deciding what career path I should choose, I had applied to both Starfleet Academy and the Vulcan Science Academy. It was the Science Academy I was hoping to enter, as it was far more prestigious, and would therefore make my mother more satisfied. I succeeded in my endeavor. At my initiation ceremony, the officers told me that I had done well, despite my "disadvantage" of being half human. I realized then that even though I had been accepted, I would never be truly welcomed. My human heritage would be common knowledge, and it would cause any studies of mine to be subject to scrutiny not normally given to a member of the Science Academy. In that moment, I felt a human emotion surfacing-pride, I believe it was-and I knew then and there where my destiny lay. I declined admission, and accepted entrance to Starfleet, an institution that, unlike the one on Vulcan, truly valued the diversity it promoted. At the time, I was concerned that my mother, a Vulcan, would be disappointed in my decision, but she allayed my fears by telling me that my decision was logical in light of the prejudice I faced._

_Now, I find myself wishing that I had simply endured the prejudice and stayed at the Science Academy. Had I done so, I would not have been placed in the difficult position that today's events had forced me into. Our visit to the Andromeda Galaxy was cut short when Captain Aizen received a disturbing revelation of an alliance between the Romulans and the former rulers of this galaxy, and their plans to launch an invasion of Federation space. He decided that we should return to the Beta Quadrant and seal the wormhole behind us._

_Upon our arrival at the wormhole, though, we came upon two large war vesssels-"Star Destroyers", I believe the locals call them-at the entrance, about to pass through. They were blocking our path, and had to either be stopped or destroyed; if the Romulans got hold of the blueprints for them, they would have had little trouble conquering the Federation. The Captain ordered me to calibrate the deflector array to emit a phase-variance graviton beam and fire it at the wormhole. I was reluctant to do so, as I knew that my actions would permanently close the wormhole. However, the Captain's logic was sound, and I had no choice but to obey. The Destroyer entering the wormhole was destroyed, and we engaged the warp engine and evaded before the remaining ship could determine our location._

_I have chosen to honor both my human and Vulcan heritage by moderating my emotions. Now, I wish I would have chosen one or the other. Even if I had still declined entrance to the Science Academy, if I were fully Vulcan, I could deal better with my overwhelming guilt and anguish; if I were human, perhaps I would have had the courage to defy the Captain's orders._

_But I have gone on long enough in this irrelevant line of thought. The Captain has set a course for us to return to the Rebel fleet. Perhaps I shall meditate and center myself so I can better resolve my ambivalence toward logic._

The door chimed. "Who is it?" Halibel asked.

"It's me," the reply came.

_Why must it be_ him, _of all people?_ She sighed. "Enter."

Nnoitra slowly strode in, which was rather unexpected. He seemed to prefer barging most of the time, but the ship's predicament had obviously hit him hard, too. Even his usual grin had disappeared. "How are you holding up?" He asked.

"I am persevering," Halibel answered, not opening her eyes.

He sat down next to her. "You're not feeling too happy." It wasn't a question.

"What makes you say that?"

"Any normal person would be," Nnoitra pointed out. "After all, you did carry out the Captain's order."

"We've been over this," Halibel said, a hint of irritation in her voice, "Vulcans are not devoid of emotion. In many ways, our emotions are stronger than those of humans…and Cardassians, for that matter. We have taught ourselves to control our emotions, and have built our culture around such control."

"It's bothering you." Again, it was a statement, not a question. "You meditate whenever something's heavy on your conscience."

"Leave me alone," Halibel said, turning to face away from him.

"How do you know talking about it won't make you feel better?" Nnoitra leaned closer.

"If I wanted to talk about it, I would have spoken to Counselor Inoue," Halibel insisted.

"You know," Nnoitra ignored her, "I'm not having an easy time here, either. This ship is so blasted cold outside of my quarters. I may never see Cardassia Prime again, or feel the warmth of its sun on my face. On the bright side, I also won't have to worry about the Obsidian Order breathing down my neck all day."

Halibel opened her eyes. "How are you so composed?" Her voice bore a hint of anger; this was unusual, as she rarely expressed any degree of emotion. "How do you find it so easy to control your passions at a time like this?"

"Are you really sure you don't want to tell me what's bothering you?" Nnoitra placed a hand on her thigh.

"I suppose I have nothing to lose," she didn't try to remove the Cardassian's hand from her leg. "And Counselor Inoue is probably busy."

Few people under the leadership of Supreme Commander Tu had suffered even a semblance of the abuse she was dealing to the practice dummy in her quarters. It was outfitted with a Starfleet Captain's uniform and a brown wig. She was dressed in tight-fitting, revealing workout clothes, and dealt the dummy countless kicks, punches, elbow jabs, and practice sword strikes. Her face was flushed and angry, and her whole outfit was saturated with sweat.

"That…selfish…_schutta_!" She punched the dummy in its shoulder, knocking it to the floor, where it sprung back up. As far as she could tell, her movement was doomed. The Galactic Alliance would be crushed by the Imperial Remnant sooner or later, and all because Aizen insisted on obeying that kriffing Prime Directive. Sure, her soldiers would fight honorably, as she had inspired them to, but even they couldn't keep the Empire down forever; especially not with their new figurehead. She'd heard rumors that he, like his predecessor Vader, was a Sith Lord. If that was true, and the Empire won, the Galaxy would doubtlessly be in for at least another century of Palpatinism. Her father had taught her to dedicate her life to preventing such a thing from happening. He had been everything to her, and knowing that she was fulfilling his wishes was the only thing that had been able to stop her grieving his untimely death.

"Mistress Neriel," her protocol droid, P3-SH3, contacted her on the intercom.

"WHAT?" She demanded, still striking the dummy.

"I apologize for interrupting your physical conditioning, but you have a visitor."

She paused briefly. "Who is it?"

"It is the Federation Captain. Shall I show him in or send him away?"

This was unexpected. After a moment of thought, she stuffed the practice dummy into her closet and grabbed a towel from a rack nearby. "Show him in, Pesche," she said, wrapping the towel over her shoulders.

The door slid open and Aizen stepped inside, one of his hands behind his back. "Hello again, Supreme Commander," he said, looking her up and down. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"I didn't think I'd see you again," she said, drying her forehead. "You've got quite some nerve, coming back here."

"I didn't expect a warm welcome back, so I thought I'd bring you a little gift." Aizen pulled his hand from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of various flowers from the botany bay on the _Noches_.

"Oh!" Nel gasped at seeing them, and leaned in to smell them. "They're lovely! I'll have my droid put them in a vase."

"So, are you still willing to accept my help?"

"Yes," she said, "In fact, we can't win the war without it."

"I see," Aizen breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the Supreme Commander's warlike upbringing hadn't bred away all of her femininity. "So, what exactly do you need from us?"

She sat down on her couch, and invited Aizen to join her. "We need you to explain your Warp Drive to our scientists so that we can adapt it to our ships."

"But…aren't you already capable of faster-than-light travel?"

"Yes, but our hyperdrive has a weakness that the Imps have been able to exploit, and the Romulans have helped them overcome that weakness on their own ships."

"What is it?"

"I don't understand it fully," Nel said, "But I will have Admiral Ackbar explain it to you. He's more knowledgeable about technology than I am. I can take care of the political aspects of our alliance."

"Okay. What intelligence would you be willing to share with me?"

"Anything you need. We have seen how principled you are, and we don't wish to alienate any potential allies."

"Good," Aizen leaned forward, ready to stand.

"Wait," Nel grabbed his arm. "Isn't there anything else you want from us?"

"I didn't have anything in mind."

"You collapsed the wormhole, didn't you?"

Aizen's eyes went wide. "How did you know?"

Nel shrugged. "I can't think of any other reason why you'd change your mind about helping us. You're trapped here, with no communications with Starfleet, and you have nothing else to do."

"Yes," Aizen said, "That about sums it up."

"I have plenty to offer you once the war ends. Your crew, I'm sure, wishes to settle down somewhere. There are thousands of human colonies throughout the galaxy, and I'm sure I could help you locate a suitable one. And, of course, we'd give them money to help them start their new lives," she offered.

"That's more than we could ask for," Aizen said. "You have yourself a deal."

"Good," Nel smiled and held a datapad out to Aizen. "If you would just place your thumbprint here…"

Aizen complied. "Thank you. You're helping us more than you know."

"As you are helping us. The Empire is pure evil, and they cannot be permitted to rule the galaxy again. At some point, I might fill you in on the extent of their atrocities. But for now, we have work to do. I'll transmit Admiral Ackbar's contact information to your ship's computer." She extended her hand. "I hope ours will be a long, strong, and friendly alliance."

Aizen shook it. "I hope so, too." He pressed his badge. "Aizen to _Noches_. One to beam up."

As her newly found friend disappeared in a cloud of light blue energy, Nel walked over to her bed and removed a metal box underneath. It would open only with her retinal scan. i_It's now or never,_ she thought. _If only you were alive to see this day, daddy…_

Inside the box was an object older than any living creature in the galaxy, and far more powerful. Four thousand years before, the person who used it had threatened the very existence of the Old Republic. It had several cracks, no doubt the result of time. It was, in fact, a white mask with three small slits to accommodate the eyes and breathing appendages of a humanoid. In and of itself, the mask held no special power; it was not an object of the Jedi or the Sith, though it did bear a great similarity to many Sith artifacts in that it granted its wearer the power to control many loyal followers, much like the talisman of Karness Muur. But, unlike the Muur Talisman-which granted the wearer the power to create and subjugate hideous mutants known as rakghouls-the mask gave the wearer control over a sophisticated, powerful army of many species with minds of their own, but all loyal to the same ideal-the Mandalorian way.

Her hands trembled as she delicately and ceremoniously pulled the mask from the box and placed it on her face. Power was as much a burden as a strength, and she intended to make the New Republic stronger than before, which would all be possible with this mask. "From this day forth," Nel intoned, "History shall know me as Mand'alore…the Restorer. Clan Odelschwank will live again."

"Why did you come after me?"

Miska didn't look up from the control panel. "Huh?"

TREA swiveled his chair to face her. "Come on. You got your bio-mimetic gel back. Why not just let me go? We're not in your galaxy anymore."

"Do you still not grasp the magnitude of your crime?" Miska's usual irritation was showing.

He put his hands behind his head and leaned back. "I think you just can't bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight."

Miska scoffed. "I don't know where you get your delusions, phaser-brain." Before TREA could think up a response, she changed the subject. "What can you tell me about this planet we're going to?"

"Tatooine is a desert planet, like Vulcan. However, it's a lot less pleasant than Vulcan. The system has two suns, so it's a lot hotter, and the inhabitants are disagreeable at best. Tatooine just has a few things, and in order from least dangerous to most dangerous, they are sand, Jawas, banthas, sand people, krayt dragons, and Yami."

"Yami's your boss, right? What's he like?

"He's your typical Hutt: greedy, arrogant, gluttonous, and powerful. He has only two redeeming qualities: he pays well, and he's got a sense of humor. He offends easily, so I think that you should just stay in the ship while I speak to him. Trust me, if you anger a Hutt, it's the last thing you'll ever do."

"Really?" Miska's voice rose. "You think I'm not trained in diplomacy? I am a member of Star-" She was cut off as the ship lurched.

"Sir," Worvil spoke up. "We're being hailed."

"Put them through," TREA instructed. A large humanoid man with dark skin and yellow eyes filled the viewscreen. "What do you want, Zommari?"

"I want you to stop your ship, turn off your shields, and prepare to be boarded. I'm taking you to Yami."

"I was just on my way to see him," TREA said, "So back off."

Zommari raised his hand. "You're coming with me. Now."

"Have you forgotten, Zommari? I'm an android. Your Sith powers have no effect on me."

"Really? Thank you for the reminder." He turned slightly and pointed to Miska.

Miska clutched at the collar of her uniform and made a series of gagging noises. TREA reached for the communicator switch, but the panel erupted in sparks, fusing the switch in place. Miska's face was showing a tinge of blue. "Fine! You win. I'm lowering my shields."

Zommari lowered his hand and Miska gasped, her face returning to its natural color. "How did he do that?"

"Even I can't fully explain it."

Several hours later, after Zommari had taken them aboard his ship and landed on Tatooine, the two of them stepped off the loading ramp and into a landspeeder Zommari had stored on his ship. Miska was bound with a rope and TREA with a durasteel chain-a mere formality, as their captor could have felt the speeder unbalancing if either of them were foolish enough to try jumping out. At least a full minute passed before Miska could comfortably open her eyes all the way. "You weren't kidding," she said as they cruised through streets filled with dirty, destitute families, glaringly crooked vendors, and desperate thugs, all of whom were giving Zommari's speeder a wide berth. "This place feels like an oven. I'm sure Nnoitra would love it here."

"Yeah," TREA's voice was deeper than usual, and his words came out more slowly. "The heat's really making my circuits lag. I should've drunk a bottle of coolant when I had the chance." He raised his voice to speak to their host. "Say, Zommy, why is a powerful Sith Lord like you doing bounty work for a mere crime boss?"

"The Hutt has an ancient holocron that my master wants," he answered. "I plan to exchange you and the girl for it."

TREA seemed intent on discovering every detail of everything he was pulled into. "I don't get it; why not just take it from Yami? I'm sure _you_ are more than a match for a Hutt and his bodyguards."

"My master says that the Hutt may prove useful to us again in the future. He is well-connected. Believe me, my master's orders are the only reason the Hutt is still alive now. To me, he is nothing more than a festering, mountainous pustule who fancies himself a high lord of merchants and criminals."

"I see." TREA turned back to Miska. "I think I should explain more about Yami to you. He's head of the Llargo clan. They're powerful Hutts who pretty much destroyed the Desilijic clan. Desilijic's last leader, Jabba, was the de facto ruler of Tatooine. Hutts consider themselves superior to all other species in the galaxy, and they don't like being told otherwise. If Yami questions us, let me do the talking. If he asks you a question specifically, address him as 'Your Excellency', and do all you can to hide your disgust."

"I beg your pardon!" Miska was indignant. "You can't be a Starfleet officer if you hold prejudices against aliens. I've met members of over fifty different sentient species."

"Trust me," TREA insisted, "You'll find it very hard to be impartial around Yami."

"We're here," Zommari announced, bringing the speeder to a halt right next to a stone staircase leading to a large, circular building made of rusted durasteel. The party was approached by several large, menacing, porcine creatures carrying large axes. One of them pointed its axe at Zommari and snorted in a rather threatening tone. Zommari raised his hand and the creature sputtered, clutching its neck, until it fell down dead. Miska winced, her feelings of revulsion placed by ones of sympathy. The rest of the creatures moved to the sides of the staircase, allowing Zommari to walk his captives up the steps and through the front door.

Even touring a prison on the Klingon homeworld couldn't prepare Miska for what she saw. "Thugs" would have been an overly generous description of the crowd around her; two dozen different species, all of whom were armed to the teeth (or whatever passed for teeth amongst them) and looking at her in a manner clearly designed to intimidate. She did her best not to let them know that they were succeeding. At the far end of the dimly-lit chamber, there was a throne with a yellow light shining down on its occupant: a gigantic wrinkled slug with two bulbous green eyes and short, stubby, three-fingered arms. The creature's skin was oozing some kind of yellow oil that Miska could smell from four meters away. She forced her lunch back down her esophagus.

The creature emitted a loud, deep bellow. "He!llo, Zom!mari! Y!ou nev!er fa!il to dis!appoint me."

"Where is it, Yami?"

The Hutt waved his arm, and a human-like creature with two long tails growing out of its head appeared, carrying a pillow with a small box in it. The box floated into the air and flew into Zommari's grasp. He opened it and removed from it a pyramid-shaped object about the size of his palm-the holocron, obviously. Before he even touched it, Miska felt a shiver run through her body-whatever this holocron was, it contained pure evil. Though it may have been the dim lights playing tricks on her eyes, she could have sworn that she saw a cloud of black energy emanating from it.

As if to confirm Miska's notions, menacing red light glowed from the crystal and seemed to respond to Zommari's touch. He glared at it, and a cloaked figure wearing a Mandalorian mask emerged. "Who are you?" The figure asked. It was impossible to tell if the voice was male or female.

"I am Darth Zommari, and I seek the secrets of Revan. Is that who you are?"

"Yes, I am Darth Revan, but I will not share my secrets with you. You are not yet ready."

"I will prove myself. But not right now." Zommari stared at the holocron, and it shut off. "Very well, Hutt, I am satisfied. My prisoners are now yours. Do whatever you like with them."

"I ve!ry mu!ch l!ook for!ward to do!ing busi!ness wi!th y!ou in th!e fu!ture!" Yami called as Zommari walked out.

Two of the pig-like guards stood behind TREA and Miska, urging them to step closer to Yami. "TR!EA, my b!oy, wh!y di!d it ha!ve to co!me to th!is? Y!ou we!re o!ne of my be!st smug!glers, an!d y!ou ma!de th!e mis!take of los!ing yo!ur car!go. H!ow cou!ld y!ou ma!ke su!ch an ama!teurish blun!der?"

"He didn't lose his cargo," Miska interjected, her Universal Translator finally having adapted to Huttese. "Zommari stole it, and he's probably selling it as soon as he leaves the planet."

"Miska," TREA would have jabbed her with his elbow were his arms not chained, "For your own sake, shut up."

"No, no! Le!t h!er sp!eak!" Yami let out his deep, guttural laugh. "It's qu!ite r!are th!at I me!et a hum!anoid wh!o c!an sp!eak th!e ton!gue of sop!histicated, civ!ilized peo!ple so we!ll."

"Remember what I told you about talking to him, Miska," TREA warned.

"Wh!at is yo!ur na!me, pr!etty o!ne?" Yami probed.

"I am Ueda Miska of the planet Bajor in the Milky Way galaxy. What happened was that TREA was on his way to deliver your shipment, and his ship was seized in a tractor beam by Yami, who took us prisoner and stole TREA's cargo. He duped you to get that holocron and made off with your goods."

"A!re y!ou call!ing me a fo!ol?" Yami demanded.

"I most certainly am…_Your Excellency_."

TREA bowed his head in defeat. Miska was just too hotheaded for her own good. To his surprise, Yami began laughing. "Y!ou're bra!ve, lit!tle huma!noid, b!eing so hon!est to a Hu!tt. B!ut ar!e y!ou be!ing hon!est ab!out wh!at hap!pened to TR!EA's car!go f!or me?"

"Think about it," Miska said, "If TREA had done something stupid like, say, selling your cargo instead of bringing it to you, why would he have returned to this galaxy?"

"Y!ou ma!ke a go!od poi!nt," Yami reached into a bowl of water beside his throne, pulled out a small, squirming creature, and shoved it down his throat. "Y!ou s!ay th!at wi!th su!ch con!viction, I belie!ve y!ou." TREA raised his head hopefully. "B!ut the!re mu!st st!ill be cons!equences. TR!EA, you're go!od, an!d I li!ke y!ou, bu!t I can't aff!ord to ma!ke exc!eptions. Y!ou ow!e me tw!enty-f!ive ba!rs of go!ld-pres!sed lat!inum. Luck!ily, I ha!ve a j!ob f!or y!ou. I wa!nt y!ou to se!nd a mes!sage to Dord!oni of th!e Soc!accio kaj!idic on N!al Hut!ta. He h!as be!en cut!ting in on my bus!iness, an!d I wa!nt to te!ll hi!m to kn!ock it of!f. I nor!mally pa!y te!n ba!rs fo!r th!is jo!b, so I wi!ll simp!ly be red!ucing yo!ur de!bt to fif!teen ba!rs."

"And…what if he hates the message, and has TREA disintegrated?" Miska voiced concern.

"He won't!" Yami assured her. "To us Hut!ts, messe!ngers ar!e sa!cred. Harm!ing on!e is a cr!ime heav!ily pun!ished."

"I'll take the job, Yami. I'm sure that goes without saying."

Yami chuckled. "Of cou!rse, of cou!rse. Gua!rd! Un!do th!eir rest!raints."

One of the porcine sentries approached, cutting Miska's ropes with his knife and cutting TREA's chains with a small plasma torch. "Okay, Yami. Where's the message?" The same alien who had given Zommari the holocron came with a holoprojector and a box.

"Thanks, Bib," TREA said, lifting both items with relative ease. "Come on, Miska, let's go."

"No!t so fa!st," Yami warned, and two of his guards blocked TREA with their axes. "Y!ou ma!y go, bu!t t!he gi!rl mu!st st!ay as col!lateral."

"But…" TREA protested.

"Just go, TREA," Miska said. "I'm a Starfleet officer; I can take care of myself, and I think I've gotten on Yami's good side."

"What if…" He wouldn't leave.

"Just go," Miska repeated. "I've gotten through tough situations before." She leaned toward him and lightly kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be fine."

"All right. See you later, I guess." On his way out, TREA looked back over his shoulder three times before the palace doors closed behind him.

"Co!me he!re, co!me he!re," Yami instructed Miska, pointing to the floor directly in front of his chair.

Miska knew better than to disobey. "What is it, Your Excellency?"

"Te!ll me, h!ow is it th!at y!ou sp!eak my no!ble lan!guage so we!ll?"

She didn't dare tell him how, for fear that he would take her communicator and she would, by proxy, violate the Prime Directive, so she made up a lie. "My people are gifted with languages more than anything else. We learn them very quickly."

"Go!od," Yami said. "I ha!ve a j!ob f!or y!ou. I ha!ve be!en with!out a trans!lator fo!r so!me ti!me. I wo!uld ha!ve ask!ed TR!EA, bu!t I am mo!re in ne!ed of go!od pi!lots. Y!ou sho!uld be id!eal f!or th!e j!ob. Wi!ll y!ou ta!ke it?"

"What are the benefits?"

"In add!ition to fr!ee ro!om an!d bo!ard, y!ou wi!ll ge!t pa!id te!n str!ips of lat!inum a d!ay, y!ou wi!ll ha!ve y!our o!wn pers!onal gu!ard, your own personal quarters, an!d y!ou wi!ll be giv!en what!ever med!ical treat!ment y!ou re!quire."

"What would it cost me to stay in your palace as a guest?"

"Te!n str!ips p!er d!ay," Yami said.

Miska didn't have that kind of money. "Okay, I'll take the job."

Yami waved his arm, and his majordomo stepped forward, carrying a pillow with what looked like two strings with rags on them. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a salmon pink dancer's outfit that left little to the imagination. "Y!ou wi!ll al!so we!ar th!is," he instructed.

"_WHAT?_"


End file.
